Charley Brindley - The Last Mission Of The Seventh Cavalry

“Wonderful,” Sharakova whispered to Karina. “God’s gift to the Seventh Cav will regale us with his sparkling personality and dazzling wit.”

“If I just shoot him,” Karina said, “do you think Sarge would court-martial me?”

“Court-martial?” Sharakova said. “Hell, you’d get the Medal of Honor.”

They were still laughing when Lojab caught up with them. “What’s so funny?”

“You, Bull Donkey,” Sharakova said.

“Up yours, Sharakova.”

“In your dreams, Low Job.”

They walked through a section of camp occupied by the light cavalry, where the soldiers were rubbing down their horses and repairing leather tack. Beyond the cavalry were the slingers who practiced with their slingshots. The bulging bags on their belts contained rocks, chunks of iron, and lumps of lead.

“There’s the market.” Sparks pointed to a grove of trees just ahead.

Under the shade of the oak trees, the market was crowded with people buying, selling, haggling, and bartering bags of grain for meat, cloth, and hand tools.

The five soldiers walked along a winding path between two rows of merchants who had their wares laid out on the ground.

“Hey, guys,” Karina said, “check that out.” She pointed to a woman buying some meat.

“That’s our brass,” Sparks said.

“No shit, Dick Tracy,” Sharakova said.

The woman counted out some spent cartridges the platoon had left on the ground after the battle.

“She’s using that stuff like money,” Karina said.

“Three,” Joaquin said. “What did she get for three shells?”

“It looks like about five pounds of meat,” Karina said.

They walked on, watching for more brass.

“Look there.”

Sparks pointed at a man haggling with a woman who had some cheese and eggs spread out on a white cloth. He offered her one cartridge for a large block of cheese. The woman shook her head, then used her knife to measure off about half the cheese. The man said something, and she measured off a bit more. He tossed a cartridge on the white cloth. She cut off the piece of cheese and handed it to him with a smile.

“These people are a bunch of idiots,” Lojab said, “trying to turn our brass into money.”

“Looks like it’s working pretty well,” Karina said.

“Hey.” Lojab sniffed the air. “You guys smell that?”

“I smell smoke,” Sharakova said.

“Yeah, right,” Lojab said. “Somebody’s smoking pot.”

“Well, if anyone could detect marijuana in the air, it’d be you.”

“Come on, it’s over this way.”

“Forget it, Lojab,” Sharakova said. “We don’t need to be looking for trouble.”

“I just want to see if I can buy some.”

“We’re on duty, you numbskull.”

“He can’t keep us on duty twenty-four hours a day.”

“No, but right now, we are on duty.”

“What Sarge doesn’t know won’t hurt nobody.”

Lojab walked down a slope toward a small stream. The other four soldiers stood watching him for a moment.

“I don’t like this,” Joaquin said.

“Let him go,” Sparks said. “Maybe he’ll learn a lesson.”

Lojab walked along the stream, then around a bend and out of sight.

“Come on,” Sharakova said, “if we don’t watch his back, he’ll get his balls handed to him.”

When they caught up with Lojab, he stood at the edge of a group of thirty foot-soldiers standing in a ring, watching two men fight. They laughed and shouted, egging on the fighters.

“The smoke around here is thick enough to get an elephant high,” Joaquin said.

The men were passing small bowls around. Each man would inhale deeply over a bowl, then pass it on. The clay bowls were filled with smoldering hemp leaves.

“Mind if I try that?” Lojab said to one of the foot-soldiers.

The soldier looked him over, mumbled something, then shoved him backwards, into Sparks.

Karina flipped on her comm switch. “Hey, Sarge. You online?”

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“We might have a little confrontation here.”

“Where are you?”

“In the woods, below the market.”

“What the hell you doing down there?”

Lojab unslung his rifle, but before he could bring it around, two of the foot-soldiers grabbed him, while another man took away his rifle.

“We can discuss that later,” Karina said. “We’re going to need some help.”

“All right. How many should I bring with me?”

Karina looked around at the foot-soldiers; the men looked like they were ready to enjoy a good fight. “How about everybody?”

“We’ll be there in ten.”

The two foot-soldiers dragged Lojab into the ring and held him as a big, hairy man stepped from the crowd and punched him in the stomach.

“Hey, you ugly son-of-a-bitch,” Sharakova said, “knock it off.”

She stepped into the ring, cradling her rifle. The man looked the young woman over for a moment, then laughed at her.

She went toward him. “You think I look funny, Fuzzy Face?”

“Oh, God,” Sparks said, “here we go.”

Fuzzy Face pulled a three-foot-long sword from his belt and grinned at Sharakova as he flourished it around.

“Yeah, I see your little knife. Did you see my rifle?” She spun it around and placed the butt on the ground beside her right boot. “Your move, Gomer.”

Lojab tried to get away, but the two men held him tight, twisting his arms around behind his back.

Fuzzy Face swung his sword at Sharakova’s neck. She dropped to one knee and brought up her rifle to block the blow. As the sword clanged on the receiver of the rifle, she jumped up, holding the rifle in front of her.

The man then drew back the sword for a thrust at her heart. Sharakova knocked away the sword and stepped in to hit him in the chest with the butt of the rifle. As the man staggered backward, Sparks grabbed his bayonet and fixed it on the barrel of his rifle. Karina and Joaquin did the same. Some of the men watched them and drew their swords.

Fuzzy Face circled Sharakova, waving his sword. She kept her eyes on him. Suddenly, one of the foot-soldiers in the crowd knelt behind her and yanked her feet from under her, sending her face-down in the dirt.

Sparks ran forward and put his bayonet to the man’s forearm. “Back off!”

The man let go of Sharakova and crawled backward. She rolled and sprang to her feet. She then glanced at her rifle, lying in the dirt, ten feet away. Fuzzy Face looked at her rifle, too, and he grinned and started for her.

“Here!” Karina tossed her rifle to Sharakova, who caught the rifle and waved the sharp point of the bayonet at the man.

“You want a taste of this?” she snapped.

Karina knelt to pick up Sharakova’s rifle, keeping her eyes on Fuzzy Face. Joaquin came into the ring to stand beside Karina, his rifle ready. Sparks stepped over beside Lojab. Now all five soldiers of the Seventh were inside the circle of thirty foot-soldiers.

Fuzzy Face looked at Sharakova for a moment, said something, and threw his sword to the dirt. He pounded his chest, yelling like a gorilla.

“Oh, you want to fight man-to-man, huh? Okay.” Sharakova tossed her rifle on the ground and stepped away from it. “Come on, then, let’s do it.”

He ran at her, grabbing her around the neck with both hands. She pushed up her arms between his arms and brought her elbows down to break his hold, then, in a smooth continuation of her motion, she took hold of his wrist, placed her foot behind his, and pushed him off balance.

He hit the ground hard but jumped up, swinging his fist at her head. She stepped into his swing, grabbed his arm, and threw him to the ground again.

He got up, roaring with anger, and came at her. She spun around, bringing up her right foot, landing her boot in his ribs. But the blow had no effect on him. He then grabbed her foot, twisted it, and threw her to the dirt.